


The psychopath inside my head

by Miss_L



Series: My favourite fictional character and me [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Psychological Torture, Torture, explicit description of violence and death, mindgames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if... it hadn't been just a dream?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Meeting Of Minds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/685806) by [LadyLestrade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLestrade/pseuds/LadyLestrade). 



> This is a sequel to LadyLestrade's "A Meeting of Minds". Best read that first ;)
> 
> Also, this is a WIP. It's finished as in, it has a beginning, a middle and an end, but it needs work. So, any and all feed-back, constructive criticisms and ideas to improve and/or expand this story are more than welcome.
> 
> And heed the trigger warnings. Seriously. I didn't even know there was such a dark place in my mind :s

I smile alluringly (or so I think) as he draws near slowly and quietly, once again the predator. I was sorry to see him disappear, we had _such_ a nice banter. A real challenge, this one! And now he's back. _Yay!_ But... wait, what? This is no longer a dream, is it? This is my bedroom and... Loki is in it? I pinch my arm in confusion and look up. It hurt, so this is definitely no dream. 

Loki's smile grows wider, toothier at my frown, and he is almost beside the bed now. I sit up with my back against the radiator, cold dread making its way quickly up my spine. _Anni!_ But as my writer looks on in concern, the fourth wall slams shut again. It's my story now. And I have to make the best of it. The very real monster in my room kneels on the edge of my bed and leans on his hands in front of my face. His breath comes out in a cold cloud as he hisses: _'That_ was just a small preview of what's in store for you, little girl!' His sneer around the last two words is more menacing than seductive, and, not for the first time ever, I start doubting my sanity.

Upon saying these words, Loki grabbed my wrists roughly and hauled me forcefully out of bed. He was amazingly strong, but he still let my legs drag over the floor “just because” as he pulled me alongside him, walking quickly down the hall and throwing me through the open door of the bathroom into the tub head-first. I barely had the time to realise what was happening, let alone prepare for impact. But the moment I wondered what the chances of surviving a broken neck were, I was submerged in ice-cold water. This... was not my bathtub. It was a lake. And it was freezing. Loki watched me with a smirk, but his eyes seemed fixed and dead. I looked back at him as steadily as I could manage – between wheezing and having the water engulf me once again. I was shivering, wondering whether the man at the waterside could guess that I wouldn’t need to use the bathroom anymore. Good thing my clothes were soaked now, anyway.

I swam – well, “convulsively juggled” was more accurate – the little distance to shore and climbed up the rocks that formed a natural staircase to the bank. He let me. He never moved, never spoke. I stood shivering in the chilly air, hugging myself and not even trying to stop my teeth chattering. He finally spoke. Or rather, jested.

‘You shouldn’t be very cold, with your _provision.’_ He threw me a disgusted look. My eyes narrowed. 

‘Wh-what w-would you k-know, F-frost G-giant-t?’ He finally moved. In a flash of black and green, he stood in front of me, close enough for me to watch my breath evaporate on his face, one hard as steel hand around my neck as he spat into my ear: ‘Don’t you _dare_ ever again address me with that filthy name. _Ever!’_ He relaxed his grip on my throat as he pulled back, training his eyes on mine. It was pleasant to have him near, his body somehow giving off warmth, but I never liked to do as I was told. I threw my head back to look as defiant as possible (considering I had a case of “wet cat”, not that easy).

‘Or what? You c-can’t just forget that you _are_ a filthy Fr-rost Giant yours...’ My throat was grabbed hard once again, but this time, I was lifted by the neck and flung back into the lake. _At least I got him mad,_ I thought with some pride as my lungs burned with cold water. This time, Loki refused to let me get on shore. If I even stood on a rock, he threw me back with a spell. I felt my limbs numb one by one as I barely kept afloat after a few tries. I was close to tears now, and it wouldn’t have made much difference if I cried – my eyes probably already red and my face most definitely wet – but the last thing I wanted was to give Loki the satisfaction. If he wanted to break me, he’d have to work harder. I paddled back as close as he’d allow me, and asked: ‘Why are you doing this?’ Even though my voice was cracked and trembling, I managed to keep the tears out. I would go down fighting, I told myself and, in fact, I was. The fiend just smiled at my question and diminishing efforts at survival.

‘Because I can,’ he said softly, only just audibly, his voice a velvety purr. I wasn’t sure if I should be annoyed or terrified, or both, and I was too tired for either. _Fine._ If this is how he wants to play it, then fine. Fuck him. I would _not_ beg. 

Ignoring the fear ringing alarm-bells all over my brain, I push myself backwards with what little strength I have left in my arms, eyes fixed on the Trickster’s face and mouth set in a grim line, upper lip twitching in contempt every now and again. The uncomprehending look on his face is hilarious, but I’m too pissed off and, frankly, piss-scared to appreciate it. He turns his head a little to one side and his brows furrow in confusion. I stop swimming and take a deep breath, then another. My nerves are tingling where I can still feel them, despite the cold, and I have to keep myself from screaming or hyperventilating in panic. My arms and legs are moving just sufficiently to keep my head above water. _Enough._ I take one final breath and go utterly still. As the water touches the bridge of my nose, I see Loki’s eyes widen in surprise and understanding. His jaw drops just when I close my eyes against the icy feel of water.

I’m fully submerged now and sinking further as I forbid myself from thrashing and fighting. My brain feels utterly numb, and all I want is to sleep. Somewhere deep in my chest, there’s still a feeling of dread, but even that is now being overshadowed by a burning sensation in my lungs. _Come on,_ I tell myself, _just let go._ It’s easy and should be painless, so I’ve heard, but you can’t turn off survival-instincts. My brain is on fire with alarm again, and my eyes open wide. I need to get out, get away, get air. But Loki’s smug smirk comes to my mind, and I open my mouth decidedly, just enough to let the air escape. I watch the fine little bubbles float up. Is this really how small and fragile life is? Three, four airbubbles, and it’s gone. The burn in my lungs increases. I’m tired of struggling. I finally breathe in through my mouth, the cold burn swiftly making way for a comforting darkness. It envelopes me whole, and the last thing I see is the heaving surface high above my head.


	2. Chapter 2

When I wake up, it’s daytime. Sunbeams stream into the room through thin curtains. I sigh. Well, that _was_ a weird dream. I sit up with a jolt. I have jalousies in my bedroom, and they don’t let much light through. I’m almost not surprised to see two very vivid, very beautiful, but oh so dangerous green-blue eyes stare at me pensively. I do, however, feel something akin to desperation and fall back on the pillows. Still, curiosity gets the best of me, and I turn my head towards Loki.

‘How come I’m not dead?’ He smirks. Of course he does, that smug bastard.

‘Because it wasn’t real.’

‘Is this real?’ I’m only partially interested in the answer, looking for a way out.

‘Perhaps,’ he answers, almost... kindly? I look back at him. He’s aware of what I’m thinking, I can see it in the mischievous smile on his lips, so I abandon my “discreet” search for an exit and focus on the situation. I’m wearing clothes now. Not mine, but nice and comfortable all the same. A dress, some knickers and some socks. The room is spaceous; aside from the huge bed, there’s a wardrobe, a full book-case and a table. No chairs – not that Loki needs an excuse to sit uncomfortably close to my hip, anyway. I wonder whose house this is, but before I can formulate the question, the memory of being engulfed in water gushes over me, and I grab my throat as I feel the cold ache again. It passes quickly.

‘If felt so real,’ I say, more to myself than him.

‘It always does.’ He breaks off his contemplations and stands up, patting my leg in the process.

‘Get up. Business to attend to.’

‘What business?’ I don’t have a very good feeling about this.

‘You’ll see.’ He flashes me a boyish grin and disappears through the door. I sigh. Welp, might as well find out what’s going on this time. As long as I keep reminding myself this is just a dream, what could possibly go wrong?

 

Once I find comfortable shoes and put them on, I walk out of the bedroom and through a hall. I can hear rumour and voices at the other end, and some kind of foreign music grows louder as I approach. It’s... festive. Mostly drums and some kind of wind instrument, possibly bagpipes. I walk into the... well, it’s not a room, exactly. It’s more like a mess hall, or even a ballroom. There is a huge table in the middle, with benches and chairs around it, set for a wonderful feast. There are flowers everywhere, guards and waiters scurrying on and off. And the people at the table... They are absolutely incredible. Each one of them is majestic and tall, some more elegant than others, but absolutely all of them dressed impecably in splendid clothes. I feel shabby and small, and hope feverishly nobody will notice me. And no one does, to my great relief. 

I see Loki standing at the other side of the room, near an arch leading onto a terrace. He’s dressed into a simple black robe with a golden hem. He beckons me to come closer, and I try to make myself as small as possible as I make my way stealthily between the running servants. However, intent as I am on not making a noise, I walk against a big brass vase and send it clattering to the ground. I freeze in place, but no one seems to have noticed, even though the clamor of the empty urn had been quite loud. I pick it up and look around me more intently now. Even though I’m standing in the middle of the hall, no one takes notice of me. When someone occasionally looks my way, they looks past me, or through me, it would seem. It’s strange and sends shivers down my spine, so I walk faster until I reach Loki.

‘What’s going on?’ I ask apprehensively, not sure I want to know the answer. He shrugs in response and walks off the stairs leading into the garden. I follow suit. When I finally look up... I see the most beautiful and flawless trees, plants and flowers I’ve ever come upon in my life. They are not perfect in their proportions or upkeep. If anything, this is the wildest garden I have ever seen, bushes of different variety intertwining; trees snaking their branches around the few gazeebos scattered here and there; flowers growing freely everywhere. Sunlight filters through the dense foliage, and the walking paths are few and very narrow. 

All the colours and shapes of the greenery seem to heave and sing. Every branch is like a melody, every leaf producing a single note of exceptional beauty whenever the wind rustles along. The entire garden is _alive,_ somehow, and generating the most amazing, heart-breaking, romantic and bellicose symphony imaginable. I feel overwhelmed and close my eyes; tears of joy, or pain – or both – trickle down my cheeks as I sink to my knees and weave my fingers through the grass. I’m happy, sad, and perfectly at peace with myself and the surroundings. _This must be heaven,_ I think, and chuckle at the cliché.

I don’t know how long I’ve been lying on my side, but I feel long fingers grab my wrists at last, and pull me along through the vegetation. I don’t care, as long as I can enjoy the smells and sounds around me. Suddenly, we come to a halt and I feel hard underground beneath me. I open my eyes in confusion and see Loki standing with his back to me. We are on a mountain, the sunlight reflecting from the time-polished stone. I get up and dust off my dress – which is now of a dark brown colour and heavy material. Loki is wearing a dark-green cloak and I can see the sheath of a sword peak out from behind the brim. 

He turns around to look at me. A golden helmet with long curved horns shimmers into existence, enclosing his head and face, and he reaches his hand out to me, muttering some words I don’t understand. I feel a weight pushing down on my cranium. It’s not unpleasant – rather... reassuring. I take off whatever he just made to examine it. It’s a beautiful silver helmet with flower and plant-like decorations. There’s an elegant wreath of them around the edge of the implement, forming a semblance of a crown. Strands of flowers descend towards and around my chin, fitting perfectly to my face the moment I put it on again. I feel a few metal stems curve around my eyes protectively, as well as more strands weaving into the mass of hair at the back of my neck. 

I stand next to Loki, trying to make out what he’s looking at, but the sun is too strong in my eyes. I can see, however, something glimmering and coming closer, and some part of my brain decides to ring an alarmbell. It’s coming towards us fast, but Loki has not seen it yet; he is looking the other way, over a valley below. No. It’s not coming towards us. It’s coming towards him. Whatever it is, it’s too close to warn him in time, so I push the man on my left away hard, nearly sending him flying off the mountain. I see anger in his eyes when he finds his footing again and prepares to take his revenge upon me. His anger hurts deep in my chest, but is quickly replaced by an anxious frown. I follow his eyes towards my bosom. _Oh._ It was not his anger piercing my heart. It was an arrow. I note the beautiful ruffles at the end, feathery and soft. _How funny,_ I think, _that such tenderness would be on the other end of such brutality._ I feel light-headed and fall on something hard. Loki caught me mid-air, and something around his forearms is poking my back. 

He doesn’t speak, but his expression seems desperate. _It’s alright,_ I want to say, _it’s_ all _right,_ but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is a trickle of blood. I smile up at Loki, but a spasm coming from my chest makes me cough, and I’m nearly choking on a stream of hot liquid. I put my fingers to my lips, then look at them in confusion. More blood. How can there be so much blood in me? The man still holding me in his arms is mumbling something, moving his hands over my back. I feel rays of light enter my spine and search for my heart, but it’s too late. I smile again and stroke the face above me with shivering fingers, leaving red stripes on his cheek. I frown. I didn’t mean to stain his skin, but my arm is too weak to lift my hand up again and take the blood away. He lowers me gently to the ground and I close my eyes. A small shiver of fear passes through me – I don’t want to die! I remind myself that this is just a dream, that I will wake up and be fine again, but it doesn’t _feel_ unreal... A tear trickles down my temple and I grab Loki’s cloak with my last strength. He is still holding me. I count my heartbeats – I can hear them in my ears now – and feel everything slowing down. _Twice dead in two dreams,_ I think and smile. And then I breathe out.


	3. Chapter 3

I am back in the spaceous room again. Except now, it’s dark, and pale moonlight is dropping softly to the floor through the same thin curtains. I don’t remember how I got here, but is doesn’t matter, because Loki is beside me. He is dressed in a beautiful emeraldgreen gown and his eyes shine when he looks at me. He takes my hand and I look down. I’m wearing a white dress. My companion puts his other hand on my waist and somewhere near, soft music starts to play. He is close to me now, and it shouldn’t feel as comfortable as it does. He smiles – the first real smile I’ve ever seen on Loki’s face! – and sways me gently to the rhythm of the tune. We’ve already established than he could break my spine with one hand, yet he doesn’t seek control this time. Rather than that, he gingerly leads me into an intricate, but utterly beautiful dance. It’s exhilarating and calming at the same time, this... whatever this is. 

When the rhythm slows down, I step a little closer to my dance partner and put my head on his shoulder. I close my eyes when I feel his long, elegant arms snake themselves around my back, not pullng me nearer, just resting there. Giving me comfort. It’s heavenly. I rub my cheek comfortably against the silk-like fabric of the robe and sigh quietly. The music stops, and only then do I realise we’ve stopped moving long ago. I look up at him, even though my eyelids are heavy with sleep. He’s still smiling warmly, and I smile back.

Suddenly, his face becomes more visible and his smile turns into an ugly sneer. He pushes me off him and I feel my hands grab at leather. Somehow, it’s day now, and he’s wearing his armour. I look around, confused. We are in a field and I hear whinnying of horses and bangs of metal on metal. I’m wearing quite a lot of leather myself, my hair put up in a convenient ponytail and a spear in my hand. Wha..? Before I have the time to process all the sensory input, or find out where all the tumult is coming from, Loki attacks me, facial features distorted in rage. A hard blow against the side of my head sends me flying downwards, and my back makes painful contact with the ground. Through the ringing in my ears, I hear him growl: ‘Get up! Get up, you filthy, useless creature!’ I obey, not so much because I’m scared or disoriented – though that, too – but mostly because I feel I don’t have a choice this time. The tension is high, the air static with electricity and testosteron.

I’m shaking on my feet, holding the spear I somehow managed not to drop awkwardly in front of me. Everything is spinning, except Loki’s enraged face. His weapon is already coming down for a second time when he shouts: ‘Fight me, you filthy worm! Defend yourself, whore!’ I avoid the blow instinctively and deal one of my own to his unprotected shoulder. He flinches back and laughs. He’s _loving_ this! I have no time to contemplate the ridicule and unreality of the situation – just this one? – for his spear is in the air again and I just barely block it with mine. I feel the kickback in both my arms and shoulders. My brain needs a second to process that either the radius or the ulna in my right arm has snapped like a twig. Possibly both, but the pain makes it quite impossible to think. I feel faint and the drumming in my ears increases. I don’t remember falling to the ground, but I find myself on my left side, cradling my broken arm and crying. Loki stands panting in the periphery of my line of sight, but I ignore him. All I’m capable of doing right now is to pull my legs closer in an attempt at self-preservation.

My whole body starts aching and I just want for this to be over, but Loki is rested and ready to go again. He shouts more ugly names at me, trying to get me to rise and fight, but I just... can’t. He steps closer, a menacing shadow falling over me, and I flinch. He kicks me in the gut, and I hear, rather than feel, another snap in my right arm. I taste blood, but swallow it back stubbornly. He kicks me again, then stops and raises his spear. I hear a last warning in his voice when he commands me to get up. I raise both arms to cover my head and make myself as small as possible. Then I close my eyes and count my breaths, awaiting the inevitable. The first blow lands on my back. My arms are next. Unprotected neck, right thigh. He stops, but I keep still and grab my head tighter. I’m surprised I’m still conscious. Maybe it’s because he wants me to be awake, to feel everything – this is still in my head, right? The shadow over my head vanishes as Loki walks around the pathetic bundle of life that is me. 

Then he’s back again and I’m bracing myself, almost forgetting why. He’s shouting along with every second blow now. ‘Look – at – me!’ He stops again, but I refuse. _Ask nicely!_ My thought makes me giggle; my concentration slips and I miss the tell-tale “whish” of the spear through the air. Landing on my arse, the strike effectively robs me of my breath. Only now do I realise that all other battle-sounds have ceased. It’s only my hoarse sobbing now – have I been screaming? – and the rain of Loki’s blows on my body. I hear the soft rustle of his coat and clench my teeth in anticipation. Nothing. I open my eyes and look up carefully. He’s staring at me with the same hatred and anger in his eyes, but his mouth is trembling. I don’t understand, and frown. A single tear escapes from the corner of his eye, then he pinches his lips and lifts the weapon again. My face contracts painfully when the stick makes contact with yet another part of my body, but I keep looking. I don’t want to keep watching my attacker, but I can’t look away. The streams of tears running down his cheeks are fascinating. I lower my arms and the next blow lands on my temple, blurring my vision.

Loki just continues hitting, as if in a frenzy, probably not even sure himself if he can stop. I’ve lost count of the strikes by now, so I count the ones folllowing. One. Two. Kick in the gut. I’m sure my brains are all over the field by now – three – but it seems there is some policy in the violence – four. My body goes numb – five – but I still feel the faint sting of every new blow. Six. Seven... He is slowing down. The tears are staining the front of his coat now – eight – and his teeth are the ones clenched. The spear is in the air again, but I see Loki’s resolve break. He lets the weapon slip through his fingers and plants it on the ground to his right. He kneels, his hand gliding along the shaft, and finally drops the thing. His mouth opens, but only harsh breaths and one or two sobs come out. He mouths ‘Why?’ soundlessly, then cups my puffy face with both hands and leans his forehead gently against mine. His hot tears fall on my cheeks, mingling with my own. I bring my one good arm around and stroke his hair. Surprisingly, despite my bruised and battered state, _he_ is the one in need of comfort. It’s a crazy world, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

I wake up slowly, as if being pulled out of syrup, and look around sceptically. My room – check. No Lokis anywhere – double check (I look twice). I settle down and sigh in relief. Boy, those nightmares were too real!

All throughout the day, I feel little pangs of anxiety, as if I could find myself in one of those dreams again at any moment. But nothing happens. I settle into my usual rhythm, remembering the visions quite often for a couple of days, but fogetting most events as time goes by.

I was having a friend over for diner one day, and went to the grocery store around the corner. I never got there. I was walking along the big glass windows towards the entrance, listening to my iPod and smiling at random neighbours, feeling cheery and generally at peace with the world. The sun shone brightly and I screwed my eyes up to see the new advert on the billboard. That was when I saw him, next to the plastic-and-iron contraption. A well-known leather-clad figure, standing squarely with his hands behind his back. His face – God, it was even worse than in my dreams! _If,_ indeed, they were dreams... The next moment, a car drove by, sunlight reflecting from the rearview mirror and hitting me in the eyes.  
When I looked up again, the vision was gone, but I ran home in complete panic anyway. My friend didn’t notice my anxiety, though she was surprised to learn we were going to order pizza.

I didn’t leave the house for the next few days, panic rising high in my throat at the memory of the gleam in the man’s eyes. The controlled tension of his body had only underlined the mad and quite sinister look he had given me.

***

I don’t see Loki again and finally go outside after a few days, though I never stray too far from the safety of my home. I do, however, get nightmares. Bad, angsty things filled with vague threats, rather than full-blown cinemascope with me in the lead role. They’re like... _nothing_ I could ever imagine. Unlike Loki one-on-one, there is no hope, or fun, or anything else in these dreams. Just utter despair and horror. And endless streams of blood – Jotun, human, Aesir, it doesn’t even matter anymore. The bloody ocean seems to be alive, to want to swallow me whole. I remember what it feels like to be drowning, but the ice-cold lake never tried to make me a part of it, to penetrate my entire being until nothing was left of me, except more blood. I wake up in cold sweat and when (and if) I go back to sleep, I never fully rest. I dread sleeping, only going to bed when I’m absolutely exhausted. In the morning, I can hardly get up. If this is not Hell, I’m not sure what is.

Once I get used to the living blood, the visions intensify and – who knew it was possible? – get worse. I never have the same nightmare twice. Sometimes, I’m being tortured. Other times, I am the one doing the torturing – which is a thousand times worse, and leaves a tangy taste of guilt in my mouth in the morning. Then there are battles. More torture, yet somehow different and more horrific each time. And then, one time... There is nothing. Just darkness, as far as I can see – or, rather, _can’t_ see. The dark is treacly and it sucks me in; I can’t scream, can’t breathe. I can’t even think. I’m lost and terrified, but there is no way out – only more darkness. When I finally wake up, I can’t even bring up the energy to open my eyes – though I can see some light through my eyelids, thank God – let alone get up. It’s been... two weeks of mental agony now, and I don’t know what’s up or down anymore. Nor do I particularly care.

A cool hand strokes my brow softly and I peel my eyes open at last. It’s Loki – whenever is it not? He looks down at me in concern, sadness in his eyes and everything. _Such a good actor,_ I think spitefully. He keeps stroking my face, cooling it down. The feeling is not unpleasant, so I let him. As if I have a choice, in my state.

‘I am sorry you are having suck horrific nightmares.’ I might falls asleep if he keeps stroking me like that, though. I don’t want to sleep again, so I bring my unwilling hand up and smack his away... Then the meaning of his words finally hits my woolly brain.

‘How do you know about my dreams?’ I ask hoarsely and frown. It’s bad enough that I’m hallucinating again, on top of having nightmares. I’m not ready for my delusion to intervene on my dreams. In fact, I’d rather he stayed out of my head altogether. Loki’s face contorts in pain and he doesn’t answer. I keep looking at him; he puts his hand back on my forehead and looks away.

‘Because they are mine,’ he says quietly. Every single nightly horror comes to my mind at once and I choke up. He puts his other hand on my shoulder; there are no words, so he doesn’t speak. I close my eyes briefly and swallow. When I open them, he has made me some food – magicked it up, probably – and I’m too tired to even care that my hallucination has just made me pancakes for breakfast, and cut them up neatly in bite-sized bits. He is watching me eat detachedly, flicking the tray into thin air when I’m finished. My eyelids feel heavy again, despite the strenghtening nourriture. Loki stands and bends slightly over me; he puts his hand to my head and whispers something I don’t quite catch. I nod off immediately and sleep through the day without any more nightmares.


	5. Chapter 5

I wake up, lying on my side and bound by hands and feet. It’s dark around me and something is pushing down on my face, making breathing hard. I can’t move, I can’t see, I can’t even speak. Panic rises in my chest, and I try to calm myself down. Hyperventilation is not exactly going to help me breathe. This feels... familiar. Or, at least, known. Vague visions of pain and suffocation come to mind, and I shiver. I listen intently, but there is nothing. I wait and wait, but nothing happens. I feel my limbs stiffen and the hard ground is hard against my right side. I can’t shift into a more comfortable position without hurting my arms which are bound behind my back, so I try to relax and stay still. I don’t know how much time passes. I try to go to sleep, but the deafening silence prevents me from nodding off. I count the seconds by my breaths. It’s not terribly accurate, but it’s the only measure I have. And it helps calming me down. I try not to think about the foul taste of the cloth in my mouth, or the fact that it keeps making me salivate.

In the end, I get restless and try to shift anyway. The ropes around my wrists hurt, as do my over-stretched triceps. I manage to roll a little more onto my back, and get my right shoulder off the ground. My legs are fastened to something, and I can’t move them at all. Whatever is covering my head, is now closer to my nose and mouth, but there is still enough air if I mind keeping my calm and turn my head sideways. I am lying on my hands, but that’ll do for now. I wonder what’s going on and how long it’ll last. At some point, I stop wondering, and start turning again. I can no longer feel my hands. I finally fall asleep, only to wake up completely disoriented again. 

The loneliness never ends. I conjure up images and memories of past birthdays, good friends and failed relationships. Anything to keep the dark and the silence out. I remember my favourite songs and movies. I don’t know how long this is going on, whether it’s a couple of days, or a couple of weeks, or just a few hours. I stop wondering. I stop imagining hundreds different scenarios of an impromptu rescue. Sometimes, I drift in and out of sleep. I keep remembering, but even the memories of the past start to fade, as if they’ve never been there in the first place. As if I’m going to wake up and know it was all a dream. In the end, I give up hope. I lie there, on the hard ground, hungry and empty, a few colourful pictures fluttering around in my mind, changing like a caleidoscope every time I take a new breath. When I stop feeling and wonder if living is even worth the effort anymore, I finally hear something.

A very loud noise getting even louder. When my ears have finally adjusted, I realise those are rapid footsteps. I don’t even have the time to panic before my hood is being taken away and the bonds somehow fall off my limbs. I can’t move them, but my body is being hauled up and examined by soft hands, and for a moment, everything is perfect. I’m blinking up in the dim light – hitting my eyes hard after the dark – and I see a familiar face. It takes me a few seconds to place it, but then the puzzle clicks together and my memories come back. I can almost taste his name on the tip of my tongue... L... Li..? No. Loki. Of course! I almost laugh in relief, except my throat is too dry. I realise I still have the rag in my mouth and frown a little. The man doesn’t seem to notice, intent as he is on making sure that nothing is broken. He finally looks at my face, conjures a flask and takes the gag away. I drink a little, but it’s too much and too fast, so I spit most of the liquid back out. No matter. He’s waiting patiently for me to catch my breath before he puts the container to my lips again. I feel myself shiver and start sobbing.

‘It’s alright, Lida, shhhh...’ He’s hugging me close to his chest and I can’t remember the last time he has called me by my name, and it makes me cry louder. He is rocking me back and forth in a comforting fashion – I did not know he was capable of such tenderness – and stroking my hair with his free hand. ‘Shhhh, you are going to be fine,’ he repeats, and I believe him. He’s come to save me! He is rescuing me from this horrible place and taking me away, of course he is! He loosens his grip on me and I look up at his face. He looks worried and lifts his head up, listening intently. I can’t hear anything, but he’s suddenly anxious. He puts me back on the ground and pushes the gag between my teeth. _No!_ What is he doing? Before I can protest, the bonds are back in place, and I’m left lying uncomfortably – again – on the same blasted floor he has come to rescue me from. Surely, this isn’t right? My brain screams out in panic, but he looks at me with regret in his eyes.

‘I’m so, so sorry, darling!’ He says, sincerity and pain in his voice as real as they are hurtful to me. I understand. ‘I shall come back for you, I promise!’ He strokes my face, then puts the sack over my head again. I hear him speak my name softly and his feet are stepping away lightly. Desperation creeps into my mind, but I brush it off. He has promised! He is not a monster, he shall come back for me, certainly! 

However, time passes and my head fills with darkness again. I am no longer sure of anything, I even don’t remember my name. It was something... He said it. Who? Who is _he?_ Or was it a she? There was long hair... And a dress. No, not a dress, a cape. But it still could be... What did they call me? I don’t... I don’t remember. I cry. I cry rivers of blood and trees. What are trees? Wait... How did I get here. Where is _here?_ Is this all in my head? Or is it unreal? Am I real? I feel real, but then again... I wouldn’t know if I wasn’t real, would I? What is this... this... I... I need sleep. Yes, sleep will be good. Oh, did I hear something? No, it’s just the blood in my ears. Like the sea. I heard you can hear your blood in the sea... Or was it the other way round? I don’t... What is this... When did I become invisible? Are there other people or did I dream them up? What is... Why is it so light? I can’t remember... I had to do something. I promised. No, no, somebody else promised! To... I don’t know...

I come round slowly. I can’t see anything for brightness, but a shadow falls over my face and I make out a hand, and a black sleeve. I blink a few times and try go get up, but a clamp on my shoulder wouldn’t let me. Not a clamp. Another hand. I vaguely remember somebody coming for me, but I don’t know whether it was the first or the second time. The man’s eyes shine as he surveys my face in worry and relief. I close my eyes. Then I open them again and sit up violently. He is not quick enough to catch me, and everything sways around me, but I don’t care. I have to know! I’m not... I’m not going back to that... I don’t realise I’m shouting until he starts hushing me.

‘Shhh, Lida, it’s alright! You’re not going anywhere, neither am I. I won’t do that to you again, I promise.’

Promise... Yes, I remember now. He promised – Loki promissed...

‘I’m not going back,’ I repeat stubbornly and pout. He smiles tiredly and shakes his head, then coaxes me to lie back. I smile at him. _Loki._ I remembered his name. Now for my own... I frown. Oh, he’s just said it! _Lida._ Yes, that’s my name! I sigh contentedly and drift off to sleep, his cool hand lightly, but steadily stroking my hair.

I wake up. It’s dark and I feel a heavy weight on my chest. No! Please, it wasn’t just a dream... I’m near tears now, but I hear a soft sniffing to my left and the weight shifts down to my belly. I feel at it. It’s a hand, and a forearm, and both are leading towards a body to my left. A body that is breathing, probably asleep. I stretch out a careful hand and touch sleek hair strewn across a cool cheek. He stirs and mumbles and I retreat my limb. I didn’t mean to wake him up. He stills again. I smile to myself. He promised to stay with me, and he did. Loki is my friend and I can’t believe there was a time I didn’t trust him. I put my hand over his and go back to sleep. 

The sun is streaming through the open window when I wake up again. Loki is at my side before I can even start worrying about where I am, and I stretch lazily. Oh, it’s good to be able to move around freely! I’m still sore and not all my muscles are willing to collaborate, but that doesn’t matter. Loki feeds me breakfast, despite my protests that I can really do it myself, and I spend the morning sitting on the balcony, overlooking grassy plains. However, when the initial euphoria wears off, something starts nagging at the back of my mind. What is it he said? It takes me a while, but I finally put my finger on it. He said “I won’t don that to you again”, instead of “I won’t leave you”. It could have just been a careless phrasing, but I know Loki always weighs his words carefully. I want to ask him what he meant, but he’s cooking dinner now, and I’m suddenly very hungry, so I leave it for later.

Next day after dinner, he tells me he has to go out. I spend the evening in anxiety, but he comes back when he had promised he would, and sleeps next to me again. He goes away more often and for longer periods of time as I get better, but he always comes back in the evening, and always comforts me at night. He talks less and broods more, but no amount of coaxing makes him tell me what’s wrong. I resort to hugging him back tighter at night. He seems to be in a better mood for it in the morning.  
After about a week, I decide to confront him with his words. He has been expecting the question. 

‘In fact,’ he says, ‘it’s the reason I was so quiet. I... I am ashamed.’ He looks at me pleadingly and I don’t know what to think. Unpleasant shivers make their way up my stomach. He continues. ‘I... I did that to you. I bound you and made you lie on the floor alone.’ 

I stare at him in disbelief and horror. _No!_ No, it’s not possible, he’s... he’s come for me. Why would he agonize me thus? He must be joking, surely... But there is pain in his eyes as he looks up at me. He is sitting on the bed, deliberatly at my mercy. I shout in terror and run out. I walk around aimlessly for some time, but I know I will go back. And I will forgive him. I will always go back to him, and I will always condone him, no matter what. There must be a good reason he did what he did. And there is.

‘I had to bind you to me,’ he explains when I finally return. ‘I had to show you the way, you see?’ 

I do. I understand now. I nod and smile. Of course his way is the only right way, and I am grateful he has taken the time to teach it to me. I tell him so, and he hugs me tightly. I don’t doubt his motives again.


	6. Chapter 6

I’m walking in a desert. It starts raining – rain in the desert? – and I watch the sand turn into streams of water. The sandy water turns into blood, and I’m doing my best to lift my feet up as high as possible to avoid soiling my shoes in the ghastly liquid, but lose my balance and end up falling on my face. The blood is engulfing my head, and I have to gasp for air. It’s not blood that floods my mouth, it’s wine. But it’s not quenching my thirst. In fact, the more of the beverage I gulp down, the more thirsty I become, until I’m swallowing too much and suffocating. The desert has won, and I feel myself being dragged down to the bottom of the ocean.

I wake up thrashing and screaming, but I’m not in our bed, and Loki is nowhere near. _Where did he go?_ I think in panic. I feel under me, but there is nothing, just air, and I’m flying – no... I’m falling. I’m shouting my lungs out as I plummet downwards into the unknown abyss. I can’t look down, I’m forced to stare above me towards a hole in the ceiling – or is it ground? – and I don’t know what’s waiting for me when I land. _If_ I ever land, rather, for the descent seems endless. The air is becoming colder and I see my breathing condense. The cold is numbing and I fall asleep. 

When I wake up, I’m still falling. However, this time, I can finally turn around to see what’s beneath me. By the time I realise this was not such a great idea, it’s already too late. I hear, rather than feel, the impact of body on ice. As every square inch of my body makes contact, I feel my skin flatten, hear my bones crunch deafeningly, and sense the bloodvessels explode, one by one, in a agonizingly slow process. But before I can feel the pain, or realise that has happened, my mind decides to put the lights out.

***

I wake up screaming again, flailing my arms. This time, Loki is beside me, and he’s holding me, comforting and stroking my hair. I burst in tears in shame – I have soiled myself in fear. He must’ve noticed, because he picks me up and carries me to the bathroom, where he leaves me after a consenting nod. When I’ve showered, I come back to the bedroom. The sheets have already been changed and it’s still dark out, so I crawl back in bed and Loki holds me tightly while I fall asleep again, praying I won’t have another nightmare. I’ve lost count of them now, but every single one still manages to scare me with its intensity.


	7. Chapter 7

I’m in a white room. No windows, no doors, no light or dark. Just... white. Lonely. When I turn around, I’m staring down a hole. A few rocks detach themselves from under my feet and plummet down. I step away from the edge. There is something soft under my foot; I turn around and see that I’m standing on a rotting corpse. A human corpse. My foot sinks into its decomposing gut and I stumble backwards, shaking maggots and disgusting flesh off my shoe. I seem to have lost my shoes, because it’s my foot that is covered in maggots now. They slither under my skin, up my calf and through my kneecap. I try to stop them, nearly crush my leg with my hands in doing so, but nothing helps. Maggots and worms are everywhere now, they engulf me. Everything around me is covered in insects, the surface is swaying and buzzing. I feel them entering my mouth, eyes and nose, and slide down my throat into my stomach. They are eating me, inside and out, and I am engrossed into the sea of grub, becoming part of it.

***

Faces. Faces are everywhere, looking at me, judging me, staring me down. I can’t escape them. All around me: ugly, beautiful, black, white and everything in between. They shift, change, merge and shimmer. I cover my eyes and ears, but there’s no escape. I scream and run away, but they follow, getting in my face, my hair, my chest. Laughing, always laughing! Ghostlike, scary features, sharp teeth. I stop running. I take my hands away from my face and breathe in. Facing the fear doesn’t help, because now the faces become animal-like. They come at me, swift and menacing, clattering their ugly teeth, getting bigger and more distorted. I run again, but the faces have hands now. They chase me and grab my shoulders, weave their branch-like fingers in my hair, then spin me around until I no longer know where to go. I’m falling upwards and all I feel is dark and cold and hot and light and utterly _alone._ I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, and I settle for quiet sobs and I finally fall on my side and curl up into myself. Every bone in my body feels broken. I stay still for fear of more monstrocities, but nothing comes.

 

I hear laughter, but it’s not the faces’ laughter. I look up carefully and see a tall man with black hair, combed slickly backwards, wearing a long leather coat and flashing me a malicious smile. He looks familiar, but there is too much noise in my head to think properly. I just look on as he approaches me and kneels next to my face. I flinch back instinctively, but he doesn’t touch me. He just whispers: ‘See how shattered you are?’ and smirks unkindly. I close my eyes and burrow my head in my arms. I don’t understand. I’m tired. I just want to... I don’t even know what I want anymore.

Suddenly, there is a loud noise in the back of the area we’re in, and I hear footsteps. Expecting a new assault on my senses, I cower, but as I peek through my eyelashes, I see my tormenter being hauled up by the lapels and dragged away from me. I lift my elbow carefully and watch as both men flash each other angry looks. The intruder is blonde and tall, with lots of rippling muscles, but a kindly expression on his face. He’s a helper, I can see that. He lets go of my fiend and steps back.

'Look around you, brother,' the newcomer says softly. 'Whose madness is this?'

Loki smirks.

'The girl's, of...’ Something clicks in his brain and he halts. ‘No… No, it's... It’s mine.' 

His eyes widen as the realisation hits so hard, his legs buckle under him and he lands on his knees with a muffled "thud".

 _'Mine...'_ he repeats quietly, over and over, as he looks in shock at the little whimpering ball of pathetic that is me. 

The blonde giant approaches and lifts me up gently. He's warm and smells of a spring storm. I giggle to myself at the thought and he hugs me tighter.

'We need to get her out of here, Loki,' de says decidedly. 'It's a miracle she is still alive. We can only hope and pray this experience has not broken her spirit entirely.'

He starts walking away, then stops and looks down at his brother. 

'Are you coming with us?' he asks and, shifting my weight to one arm, he extends his other towards Loki.

Loki's face is unfathomable, and I hear a growing anxiety in Thor's voice as he repeats: 'Brother?'


End file.
